


Close Call (A Quinjet of Love Remix)

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, First Kiss, Get Together, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Remix, Romance, Sexual Tension, Steve Rogers Swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Steve and Tony have a moment on the Quinjet, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket.





	Close Call (A Quinjet of Love Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mossyrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Quinjet of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247153) by [Mossyrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock). 



> I waited until the last possible minute to finish this despite coming up with the idea a month ago, but here it is!!!!!! the original fic is super cute, but i, of course, wanted to add some hurt/comfort into the story ^_^

“C'mon, Cap,” Tony calls from the cockpit of the Quinjet. “I'm not hanging around here, so if you're hitching a ride...”

“I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your shorts on,” he hears Steve call back, exasperation thick in his voice.

Tony smirks to himself.

He starts the process of getting the jet ready for takeoff, listening absently to the sound of Steve's boots on the ramp and closing it after just a few steps, knowing full well Steve's not all the way in.

Steve's steps sound faster. “Tony!”

“Hm? What?” he turns back to see Steve scowling at him as the ramp seals shut behind him. He's covered in soot and dirt with blood smeared in several spots, including across the star on his chest. Behind the safety of the helmet, Tony smiles fondly.

“You know what,” Steve replies darkly and peels back the cowl with a look of relief. Tony watches while he shakes out his sweaty hair because Steve can't see him do it.

“That was fun, huh?”

Steve shoots him a wry look. “That's not what I'd call it, no.”

Tony laughs and finally turns to take the plane up. He and Steve are alone because Thor's off in Asgard dealing with...whatever it is Asgardian princes do, and Bruce had stayed back at the Tower. He doesn't go out on many of the calls in New York. Clint and Natasha had come, but they'd also been picked up in a black, unmarked SUV immediately after the fight ended, whisked off to do god knows what god knows where at Coulson's behest. Steve could probably fly the jet back, JARVIS does most of the work, but with his history, Tony doesn't really want to risk it.

Once they get high enough to level out, he says, “J, take the wheel.”

He doesn't bother waiting for JARVIS' response, trusting he'll do as asked, and he moves to the back of the plane easing down into one of the wider benches with a sigh. He'd taken a couple of nasty hits and he's sore all over. He'd like to get out of the suit, but the HUD is telling him the suit's dented enough that he's not going to have any luck getting himself out without tools. And an extra pair of hands.

Steve, who's resting on the other bench with his head leaned back against the bulkhead, opens his eyes. They trail lazily down Tony's body, half-lidded and entirely too much like bedroom eyes. Tony shivers. He'd give anything to have Steve looking like that at him in either of their bedrooms.

God, he's pathetic.

Steve's eyebrows flicker downward. “You aren't going to take the suit off?”

“First it's 'put the suit on', now 'take the suit off'; you're a fickle man, Rogers.”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes without physically rolling his eyes, which never ceases to amuse Tony. “What are you hiding?”

Tony scoffs. “What makes you think I'm hiding something?”

The look Steve gives him is shrewd. “You're trying to distract me by being annoying.”

“How dare you.”

Steve doesn't so much as blink. “The suit's jammed, isn't it? You took some serious hits today.”

Tony sighs and flips the faceplate up. “Yes. It's jammed. Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic. How bad is it?” he gets up even as he asks, crossing over to inspect the suit.

Tony rolls his eyes—actually rolls them—but replies because mother-hen Steve is out in force and he's like a dog worrying at a bone when he gets this way. “Not that bad. I just need some tools and a few helping claws.”

“Or I could help.”

“Is there any point in me saying no?”

Steve smiles.

“Of course not.” Tony sighs and gets to his feet, wincing at the sound of squealing metal as he does. “All right, lets do this, since you can't wait five minutes for us to get home.”

Steve ignores him, eyes focused on the chest plate. “What do I need to do?”

Tony gestures to a spot on either side. “Now don't get any ideas, but I'm going to ask you to feel me up.” Tony's inordinately pleased when a dull pink flush floods across the bridge of Steve's nose. “There are latches on either side here—just push them in and pull. It'll probably take a little extra elbow grease, I think the mechanism is damaged.”

Steve nods and presses his thumbs into the latches. There's a hiss as the seal releases, but the chest plate hardly shifts. “All right,” he says and Tony bites down on a smile at the determined expression that settles on Steve's face. Steve digs his fingers in to the spaces left by the latches and tugs.

Tony shifts forward slightly, but the chest plate itself doesn't budge. “At this rate we'll be back at the Tower before you get it off.”

Steve shoots a dirty look up at him through his drying bangs. His biceps bunch as he grips the chest plate again and then he tugs—hard.

Tony staggers forward, slamming into Steve's chest and Steve grunts, stumbling backward and dropping onto the bench behind him. Tony can't catch his balance in time and follows him down, hands hitting the wall on either side of Steve's head, one knee on the bench.

Steve blinks up at him, breathing a little harder in the wake of the impact. Tony looms over him, shocked by the sudden proximity. Steve's eyes are so goddamn blue, his breath warm on Tony's cheeks and Tony is struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between them and kiss him.

He edges closer and Steve's eyes widen, darting down toward Tony's lips. It's a small thing, but it makes Tony's heart lurch in his chest.

For a long moment, they stare at one another. Then Steve tilts his chin upward, ever so slightly, and Tony feels his eyes go round. He can feel the warmth of Steve's skin radiating outward, can smell warm sweat and aftershave.

“Sirs, please ready yourselves for landing.”

Tony tears his gaze away from Steve's face as the Quinjet jolts, coming to rest on the Tower's landing pad. As he straightens up, he winces at a pinching in his shoulder.

He glances back at Steve as the ramp starts to come down. He's still sprawled on the bench against the bulkhead, staring at Tony. He looks shellshocked.

Then he swallows, pushes himself upright, and stutters out, “W-wait, Tony. Your suit. Let me—”

The offer seems far more charged this time around. Still, Tony pauses at the top of the ramp and waits for Steve, watching his approach, heart beating at a sprint.

Steve reaches out, hesitating just before his hands touch the chest plate again, and then curls his fingers into the grooves made by the released latches. Tony braces his feet and this time when Steve pulls, the chest plate comes away with a screech.

Tony hisses at a lance of sharp pain that stabs deep into his shoulder. Over the edge of the chest plate, Steve's eyes go wide and he drops it.

“Hey!” Tony says.

“Tony! Why didn't you tell me you were injured?” Steve demands and then jams a hand into Tony's shoulder. It explodes with pain and Tony yells, backing away instinctively.

Steve follows him, maintaining the pressure, his eyes wild. “Tony, you're _bleeding!”_

“I am?” Tony looks down and his stomach drops at the sight of a sheet of blood that's saturated his undersuit. He stares, stunned. Steve had removed his gloves at some point and blood is pouring over the back of his hands, vividly, horrifyingly red.

“JARVIS!” Steve shouts. “Send help!”

Tony's not sure if it's just the sight of so much of his blood, or if he's lost a lot, but his knees go weak and watery and he crumples to the floor of the Quinjet, ears ringing, Steve's panicked expression seeming too bright and far away.

“Tony!” he hears and it sounds like it's coming from down a long hallway, from across the workshop behind glass. “Hold on!”

The light swallows his vision.

~ * ~

Tony wakes in a dimly lit room, aching all over, but particularly in his right shoulder. That means the doctors had done their jobs and not given him any strong pain medications. Gingerly, he reaches up with his left hand and feels around the aching shoulder, wincing when it throbs at his touch. It's wound with a thick layer of gauze, which means an injury that had gone through the skin.

Dragging his eyes around the room, Tony sees the dimmed lights of the city at night behind a shade drawn over the window, an empty chair, and to his surprise, a form slumped over the right side of his bed. Blond.

_Steve._

Warmth swells in Tony's chest and he stretches his fingertips far enough to brush Steve's elbow, wanting to confirm it's really him.

Steve jolts at the touch, his head coming up sharply, and he nearly falls out of the chair that's holding his lower half.

“Hey, it's okay,” Tony rasps. “Just me.”

“ _Tony,_ ” Steve breathes. He shifts to his feet abruptly and Tony just manages to follow with his eyes.

Then he's being kissed.

He makes a noise of shock, fingers coming up to grasp Steve's sleeve.

Before he can do much more than that, Steve yanks back again. He doesn't go far, pulling back just a few inches and then pressing his forehead to Tony's. “You fucking _jerk_ ,” he says, but some of the venom is lost when his voice wavers.

“I'm sorry,” Tony says, bewildered, but weirdly pleased and hopeful. “I didn't know.”

Steve smiles crookedly at him, but it wobbles on his face. “I know. Your face made that clear. You just— I thought—” He swallows thickly and then says very quietly, “I lost someone once after waiting too long and I, I can't do it again, Tony.”

Tony blinks, reaching up tentatively to curl his hand around Steve's neck. He hurts, there's no getting around that, but it also feels like a light has gone on inside of him, glowing brighter and warmer than the arc reactor. “I love you,” he says, a fond smile widening across his face.

Steve's head snaps up, eyes searching Tony's. Whatever's on Tony's face must say it well enough because he squeezes Tony's hand in his and presses a kiss to it, just beneath the IV. “Go to dinner with me.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “I doubt they're going to okay me for that.”

“When you're back on your feet,” Steve says and Tony grins, squeezes his hand.

“Okay. Dinner. I can do that.”

Steve beams at him, despite the obvious exhaustion on his face.

“Do something for me?” Tony asks and Steve's expression sobers.

“Anything.”

Tony smiles. “Kiss me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> i loved the last lines too much not to include them!! thank you for reading <3


End file.
